


Precious Moments

by two_on_a_tower



Category: Downton Abbey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7368097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_on_a_tower/pseuds/two_on_a_tower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the most precious moments in the life of Thomas Barrow inspired by prompts I received on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious Moments

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is full of mistakes.  
> All mistakes belong to me.  
> I'm sorry.  
> \---  
> For mr-barrows-cup-of-tea who asked for:  
> George wonders why he hasn’t got a father. Everyone dismisses his question, so he’s gonna ask it to his friend Mr Barrow.

Time is a peculiar thing. Invented by man’s consciousness, it has always been elusive. Past days are disguised in the shape of yesterday, whereas future days permanently occupy the present mind. Our consciousness is squeezed in between things to come and things bygone by which means we do not pay enough attention to our most precious treasure: the moment. And so it happens that years go by uncherished and boys grow into men unseen.

Downton Abbey was no exception to this phenomenon and so it had come that Master George, the infant, was now Master George, the young man, and with adulthood he had lost the ability to live in the present and instead concerned himself with the future (on his mother’s behalf) and even more often with the past.

‘Why won’t you talk about papa,’ he asked his mother, Lady Mary, as she was sitting in a chair near the window where the light could reach her book untroubled.

‘Because it pains me.’ She sighed and glanced at the boy who looked just like his father with his blue attentive eyes and his blonde hair that shimmered like golden threads in the morning light.

‘How is that? After all those years—‘

‘Don’t be rude to your mother, George,’ Henry interrupted sternly. He was sitting with his back to them writing a letter on the oak desk. The fountain pen was screaming under the pressure of his hand while letter after letter appeared on the white sheet. Without looking up, he continued: ‘You know that your father was a good man, a loving husband, and a reliable friend. That’s all you need to know. Now leave, you have distressed your mother.’

‘I’m sorry, mama,’ the boy said contritely. He loved his mother dearly and yet he could not understand her behaviour. To silence the past was neither helpful nor did it relief the pain. All in all, suffocating pain by silence was an unhealthy way of denying it the room needed to outgrow its home of unpleasant memories. George sighed. He would have asked his mother again if it hadn’t been for Henry.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated instead before leaving the room. Deep in thoughts, he didn’t pay any attention to Barrow, the butler, who opened the door mechanically and who was forced by convention to remain silent until spoken to.

~

On the surface Thomas Barrow was a proud man. Aged gracefully (he was nearly 50 years of age by now), he still displayed the athletic body of the youth. Only the greying temples and the slight beginning of a paunch indicated time’s impact and made him look different. His eyes were framed by thin lines and his lips, formerly curled in scornfulness, were evened out by the final acceptance of his situation. Being at peace with himself was now Thomas’ harbour of serenity.  

‘Please sit,’ Barrow said after entering the servants’ hall. Over the years, the staff of Downton Abbey had been reduced. It was time’s doing. Now only the butler, the valet-footman (one man, two positions) and the lady’s maid (good old Anna) were left. The cook and her assistant were dining in the kitchen. They hadn’t established a close relationship with the remaining staff but that was alright. Everything was alright, and Thomas Barrow was content. Breakfast was eaten in comfortable silence.

~

‘Barrow?’ Master George asked carefully. He knew that invading the servants’ breakfast wasn’t a thing to do but he was restless and Barrow the only man left who were able to help him. As soon as the boy’s voice filled the room, all servants were on their feet; the breakfast was forgotten.

‘I’m sorry to interfere with your breakfast but I need you help with one of the clocks. Mother’s favourite stopped working. Again.’ He smiled shyly.

‘I’m glad to be of assistance,’ the butler answered immediately and everybody could see that this was indeed meant genuinely. Barrow adored the boy. Since the day of his birth, he had done everything in his power to support and to serve him—-not only as a servant but also as a friend.

~

‘The clock seems to work perfectly,’ Barrow said with furrowed brows. The object in question was in his hands and viewed with great attention from all sides but nothing could be found. Barrow placed the object back on the shelf, his brows still drawn together. As he turned around and Master George’s face came into sight again, it dawned on him.

‘I don’t want to be bold, Master George, but do I assume correctly you know that there is nothing wrong with this clock?’

‘You do,’ the boy said while the tips of his ears had become red.

‘Then please tell me, why you said it wasn't working?’

‘Because I’d like to speak to you for a moment – in private.’ Barrow raised an eyebrow.

‘You just have to say so and I’ll come. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, yes, I know. I just wanted to raise no suspicion. I … I fear that my real concern might upset you.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Because it already upset mother and grandfather.’ Barrow was surprised that Master George did talk to his grandfather. Lord Grantham was an old man by now and his brain had gradually stopped working like it used to do. Facts were confused with fiction and names replaceable in all his stories. Only the names of his dogs were never confused by the man.

 ‘So how can I be of assistance, Master George?’ Barrow asked kindly.

‘I found these,’ the boy looked at the closed door before he pulled two photographs out of his pocket, ‘and now I’d like to know more about … _him_.’ Curiously Barrow took the photographs and examined them. Immediately he recognised young Lady Mary and her husband who had died tragically in a car accident over a decade ago. They were standing side by side dressed in their wedding gowns, their fingers intertwined, and their glances full of eternal love. Barrow remembered that day well. It was a huge celebration and the staff under the leadership of Mr Carson had struggled to maintain the high standard of Downton Abbey as so many guests had attended their special day.

‘Well,’ Barrow started, ‘your father was a kind and a fair employer. He never treated anybody badly. He was a pleasure to work for.’

‘Barrow, no!’ Master George exclaimed. ‘Please, don’t do this to me. I want to know more than some superficial descriptions. I mean, you knew him well, didn’t you? You were already here when … when … before he died. Please don’t be selfish and share your memories with me. Please!’ George was aware that he was begging like a dog for a treat from the table. But he couldn’t help it. He needed answers.

‘Barrow, you are my friend, aren’t you?’ he continued, ‘and you know that you can speak freely to me. I won’t scold or judge you. I just want to know more about my father.’ Barrow’s heart ached as he saw how distressed the young man in front of him was and so he gave in:

‘You have to remember that I was just a footman at that time and that your father lived with your grandmother near the village. But there was this servant Molesley who lived with them—‘ And so Barrow told him the story of Matthew Crawley’s arrival at Downton Abbey and how he had refused to be dressed by a servant and how he had dared to practice a profession even though he had been the infamous heir. Master George laughed heart-rendingly as Barrow imitated the former Dowager Countess saying ‘What’s a weekend?’ and the young boy turned pale when Barrow told him about the war and how he had shared a cup of tea with his father during a lonely night on the endless battlefield.

‘Your father was injured during the war,’ Barrow said rubbing his left hand unconsciously, ‘gravely. But he did everything in his power to regain his health. He was determined, even stubborn just as you are. And then, after he could walk again, he proposed to your mother, and then they married and soon afterwards you were born. Everything was just perfect.’ Barrow concluded.

‘It _was_ perfect,’ George repeated unhappily. ‘But how would I know? I have no choice but to believe you. My father is a memory build by other man’s pieces of thoughts. That’s unfair. I want my own memories, my own father.’

‘Don’t sulk,’ Barrow said. ‘You cannot change the past but you can embrace its parts that made it into the present. I know that it is unfair that you lost your father at such a young age but I can tell you, I swear if you want me to do so, that you father was a kind, good-hearted, loving man who could differentiate between good and evil and who loved his wife and his son. And if you look in the mirror closely, you will always see a part of him in yourself. Look at the photographs again. You resemble him so much. So don’t be cross, be proud that you father was a good man.’

Master George looked absentmindedly at his father. He traced the faint lines of the face he had never seen in reality and wondered how much of his father could indeed be found in himself.

‘You are right, Barrow,’ he finally said, ‘but what about fishing or horse-riding. I’ll always have to do this alone. Harry has learnt all this from his father, you know.’

‘And you from Mr Talbot and Mr Branson if I remember correctly. In addition, I’d like to point out, that your first riding lesson was under my supervision.’

‘How’s that?’ the boy asked in confusion. ‘I didn’t know you were able to ride.’ Barrow laughed.

‘I’m not. I cannot ride but you thought I made a fantastic horse when you were a child.’ And so Barrow told him about the time he had given him piggyback rides until his back hurt and how he had clicked his tongue to create the perfect illusion.

‘You really did that?’ the boy asked in amazement while looking at the proud man in front of him.

‘Yes, I did. But please don’t ask me to do it again. You’re a bit too heavy for me now.’ Barrow teased while smiling fondly. The memory he just had shared was a small source of light during a time of breath-taking darkness he had experienced. For a second, Barrow glanced at his left wrist which reminded him of the fact that he would never talk about any of this in front of George and he also hoped that nobody would mention it to the boy out of spite in order to destroy a relationship that was his only reason for staying at Downton Abbey.

In the end, they continued to share their stories until the sun had reached its highest point and both were attentive enough to recognise this moment of togetherness as a rarity. On the one hand, it was one of the seldom moments of human existence in which the past became a part of the present without taking up too much room to enjoy the moment of exceptional emotional complexity, and on the other hand, unnoticed by Barrow, Master George finally realised that fathers had various shapes which were not always determined by genetic but always by feelings.


End file.
